Sulfuric
by khanmiR1
Summary: A string of strange homicides haunts Kadara Port. Sara Ryder is assigned to the case, but quickly realizes she needs the help of an old flame.


**Story:** Features Sara Ryder x Reyes Vidal - Takes place post-Meridian. AU elements with dark undertones.

**Prologue:**

It started at the Exaltation Facility. When they had found the Moshae Sjefa, she was a small speck in an otherwise large trove of unfathomable secrets. The Moshae had been evacuated, and Sara had a chance on her own to run back through the terminals to gather intel before dust off. The information was predictable after all they had seen. What she truly cared about; what struck the thickest chord in her being were the bodies. Dead, cold, and everywhere. Most of them killed by her own weapons. _She_ did all this. While she scrolled through pages and pages of foreign documents, her brow furrowed and sweat with more questions of morality. The Kett were here first, before Ryder. Before the Initiative. They might be stealing Angara, but they didn't kill them. They transformed them. And then there was the mighty Pathfinder. Arriving on scene with an army at her back and no one to answer to.

"SAM?" her voice was small in the open chamber. Were the bodies listening?

_Yes, Pathfinder?_

"Did you get all the vids and docs from this?"

There felt like a small stretch of silence before an answer came. Time felt different when Sara was lost in her thoughts.

_I did. I can forward to Director Tann now if you'd like._

"How much time do we have until we need to leave?"

_About 5 minutes. Locators show a few Resistance members returning with bodies to the ships. We will need to be there by the time they reach them so we can ride along._

"I killed the Cardinal when it thought I would spare them." More silence. SAM wasn't always good at realizing when she needed an answer, despite not having been asked a question. "What do you think it felt as it died?"

_I've never been asked this before. I am unsure. Research suggests that when a life form dies, a flurry of emotions flicker in their mind. It could have been any number of things that it experienced before it was deceased._

Ryder hummed in response to the generic narration. She had somehow sat against a table during this, twirling a pebble in between her thumb and forefinger. She was staring at one of the dead Kett. Its eyes were frozen wide, mouth open slightly in a silent cry. There was a gaping wound in its chest where dark, foreign blood seeped out to the ground beneath. She wasn't disgusted with the body. She was disgusted with herself. Somewhere between 600 years ago and now, Sara Ryder had become a killer. She would have never guessed that.

But that was yesterday. Today was a new day. And Ryder felt like she had just been hit by the Nomad at full speed. She took the bridge of her nose with her fingers and sighed into the stale air of the Tempest's med bay.

"Oh, Ryder. I didn't see you wake up. I'll need to check your vitals before you get up and move around." T'Porra began typing into her datapad and rearranging Sara's limbs before she even finished speaking. "Are you feeling alright? You exerted yourself quite a bit yesterday. You'll be sore for a few days, but that won't stop you."

Sara swallowed past the lump in her throat. It didn't budge. But she stayed quiet. She wished T'Porra would do the same.

"You know, if you had asked me if we would be successful in saving the Moshae, I would have told you it was a suicide mission. I guess I severely underestimated our little team we've got. It's a big win for the Initiative. Plus I got me a specimen to study!" She stepped aside and Sara barely glanced past her for a half second before turning sharply to face the other way. There was a Kett body in the cot next to her. It was the enemy, and yet there was no denying the deep seeded regret that bubbled into her gut like a poison. So much that she couldn't even look at it. This must be what trauma felt like. She hadn't experienced it when her father passed.

"I'll have to hurry with gathering data on its genetic makeup. Decomposition starts almost as soon as life is gone, so the countdown's already-"

"Can you just," Sara waved an arm up in the air. "Please just stop for a while. Do you have anything for my headache?"

T'Porra blinked and nodded to Sara's back. "I do, but you'll need to wait a few more hours before taking another dose. Last night's hasn't quite worn off yet."

"Then I think I just need silence." Ryder groaned into the blanket.

"No, what you _need_ is to get out of bed and walk around. I'm serious Ryder, I need your cot for Cora. Her implants need some attention today, and I'd rather do it sooner than later."

"Fine."

_You have new emails at your Terminal, Pathfinder._

* * *

The brash whiskey in Sara's glass might as well have been poison with how terrible it tasted to her. It glided down her throat maliciously. She didn't drink much. Not even when she lived in the Milky Way. But tonight was about a job. It was more important in this instance that she look the part more than keeping a clear head. She had ordered the drink simply to fit in. To look like one of _them_. A criminal.

But what truly defines a criminal? Is there a specific personality type to fit the title? Because that would be the only way to justify that she _isn't_ one herself. When you're given almost absolute power in a fresh, lawless land, moral lines tend to blister.

"Easy, Ryder." She mumbled into her glass. Drinking too much would cause her to drown in her own thoughts.

_Our contact has not yet arrived, Pathfinder._

Ignoring him, she sighed and emptied her cup. Her hand placed it on the counter impatiently while her eyes scanned the room. She was vaguely aware of everything around her, but not afraid. In fact, she concluded while slumping back into her chair that she felt quite comfortable. There was a hum of rabble wafting from all corners of the room. Of whispered secrets, lazy gossip mixed with the occasional obnoxious uproar. The music of Kralla's Song should never be classified as relaxing, and yet when it intermingled with clinks of glassware and low voices and murmurs, the place felt right. It was a chaotic sort of calming, where you could sit and let your own stresses and anxiety melt away just because it was hard to concentrate on them.

So she let herself relax. Experience proved that Ryder should keep her eyes open to stay aware. But she had SAM. When was the last time she'd gotten a full 8 hours of sleep? "I should go to bed earlier."

_Your last instance of a full 8 hours was approximately 15 days ago. I agree with your conclusion._

Ryder closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, tightening and loosening the muscles repeatedly in a vent of annoyance. SAM's was the only voice she couldn't get away from. Her direct orders before meandering to the bar were for everyone to take a well-deserved bit of shore leave. 'But what about you?' they had asked. Ryder smiled to herself when she remembered that her last bit of communication to them was a wave of her hand. Dismissed.

It wasn't their fault. She hadn't…been herself lately. At least that's what she told herself when Dr. T'Porra would argue that she was depressed. Sara was the Pathfinder. Weakness only became a weakness when you let it take over. When you let it make decisions in place of your logic. _Is that why you're here? Because logic told you it was a good idea to get drunk in a tavern of a world you've never been on before?_

She ran her fingers absentmindedly along the rim of the cup. She wanted another drink.

"You look like you're waiting for someone."

A voice smooth as water splashed her awake. The voice offered her a drink, and she obliged. Who was she to turn down Kadaran hospitality?

She had questions burning behind her lips before he even sat in the chair next to her. He was charming, in a forced kind of way. Sara could tell he was putting on a show for posterity. Maybe she didn't look as trustworthy as the Initiative liked to advertise. Another check mark on her list of why she wasn't good.

She had drank too much, she realized as his words strung together. "SAM, record this." Ryder whispered as quietly as she could just before a sip of her new drink. If she couldn't pay attention, someone would. It was the beginning of a dangerous game. Maybe she'd lose. Maybe she was okay with that.

* * *

Sara, she called herself. Her fingers drummed on her knee while she chuckled and rolled eyes at his jokes. Such a light name for a complex being. She was the savior of the humans... who also enjoyed making deals with strangers in the underbelly of the Kadaran beast.

Reyes was...intrigued to say the least. He sat calm and collected across from the Pathfinder, admiring the way she watched him. He liked how unprofessional her posture was. Through her facade, he spotted a beautiful type of dignity about her. Like a flower just on the edge of wilting. It leans ever so slightly, about to fall over any second, and yet the colors of its petals bleed through the skin in stark contrast to its tired persona. He could tell she hadn't slept well in days.

They paused their politics for a sip of drink and he wondered what sort of turmoil she had been subjected to as of late. Normally a talk of business in a crowded bar would put him on edge. Expecting the unexpected had become second nature. And had she been any other criminal being, he wouldn't care less about the inner workings of her character. Still, here he was, itching to scoot closer. And the exchange; how simple it was to make conversation with her. Their words flowed together like threads on a bright tapestry that he would love to run his fingers across. Every once in a while a light bubble of laughter would be woven through and he would smile. He liked her laugh. It was airy and tired, but not strained. She was a sad soul, but her laugh betrayed that. Reyes decided he liked her. She'd be something nice to look at from far away.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Reunion**

Ryder examined the molten rock beneath her for something she might have missed. What was that old world saying? Third time's a charm? This was her forth. But no matter how many stones she sifted through, or how many samples she took, the answers she and her team needed weren't anywhere to be found. They'd been enlisted as the last resort option in a string of missing persons. Kadara wasn't necessarily a walk in the Nexus Atrium, but usually there would be at least one source to account for each being in the port. So the lack of a traceable data trail proved extremely unnerving for all parties involved. But the mystery didn't stop there. When Sara woke on the Tempest a month later to another email from her detective contact, she began her day with grim news. The missing persons were found. At the bottom of numerous sulfur lakes.

The ride there was quiet.

"So do we have any more details besides where they were found?" Ryder spoke to her least favorite agent on the job. She didn't even remember his name; all that mattered was that he was a poor excuse for a turian and whoever hired him as a liaison had made a mistake. A young asari quietly handed her a datapad, to which Ryder flipped through lazily while others shuffled around her at the crime scene. A body that could only be one of the victims lay stretched on a tarp with a few examiners huddled over it. The flesh was marred and melted, with barely any identifying features left on the surface. The turian had mumbled something about checking on the other bodies and left her to stare at the carnage.

A buzz on her wrist brought her back. _Pathfinder, Director Tann is calling. Would you like me to connect you to him?_

Sara nodded and lifted the data pad once more, pulling up the uploaded initial biopsies as they came through.

"Pathfinder. Kadaran Nexus Op tells me you've arrived. Have you made it on scene yet?"

"I have, director. They've found all five persons." The third biopsy had just been updated. It was a human female. She had a nice smile on her identifying picture. A few accomplishments were listed prior to nexus exile, and no outstanding convictions or warrants. Sara had hoped all the victims were bad people. This one looked genuinely good. It complicated things.

"Have the families been contacted?"

"Not that I'm aware of. We need a story." She didn't like hearing herself say that. It made her seem… political.

"I've already lined up a few. The best options would be to stick to a generic cover. No mentioning how many pools they were found in, and nothing about foul play. Let the public come to their own conclusions for now."

Ryder set down the data pad on a rock and rubbed at her temples. This was going to be a long day. And not one she could savor either. It seemed each day after Meridian became more and more dull. She knew her job wouldn't be adventure _daily_, but she also wouldn't have guessed that she left the Milky Way to arrive in a new galaxy with the same problems. Truth be told, if it were up to Sara, her day to day would be spent studying the different Remnant locations. In fact, in her spare time, she and Peebee would spend hours on different projects centered around the infrastructure. It reminded her of the times she spent prior to Helius with the Prothean tech. Her only worries in those days were how much time was left before sundown.

Now her days were spent traveling between clusters. She was the Pathfinder, tasked with uncovering viable options for her species and others to survive. And once that was done, her title stayed the same, but the job description changed. Still under contractual obligation to serve the Nexus, Ryder had become much more than a pathfinder. And not just from what other people tasked her with. Sara had made herself into a strange new person that she felt she didn't even know some days. Her thoughts turned dark at times, and made her realize how truly muddied her moral waters had become. So she distracted herself from those depths with jobs.

The Tempest Crew had become mercenaries of sorts; with a higher level of authority. Accepting money often from both sides of the river. Best to keep that part from Tann.

She cleared her throat in response to the recent question of whether or not she would stay in Kadara to see this problem through. "A Pathfinder in Kadara for weeks at a time doesn't necessarily ward off questions, Director. People will talk."

"I know. But this is no longer a civil case of 'where did they go'. This is homicide, and quite frankly, serial. In the Milky Way this would be a Spectre case. Since we don't have the Spectres at our disposal, who better than yourself to handle it discreetly?"

"It works out for you then, that I can skirt around most regulations."

"This isn't a joking matter, Ryder. I'm allowing you continued authority over investigations until the end of this. We need to nip this in the tail before it gets any more out of hand than it already has."

Sara was pacing uncomfortably at this point. "Did you forget that we are dealing with a place with its own governing system? I might have _your_ blessing, but I can't just walk around in this district without stepping on toes."

"Then I suggest you _get_ their permission. Since the Collective has taken over, things in Kadara seemed stable until now. Talk to them if you have to. We need to be sure their hands are clean in this."

"Alright." There was no getting out of it.

"I'll check in each week for a progress update. Goodbye, Pathfinder."

Sighing dejectedly, Sara picked up the datapad once more. All initial biopsies were in. All victims were model citizens if you didn't count their exile against them. None of them seemed to have much in common either. "SAM, can you cross-reference all victims against each other? I need to know if they have similarities, where they were last spotted before disappearing, what they did for a living on Kadara, that kind of information."

_I have already begun, Pathfinder. I will alert you when I have compiled enough data._

"You have an interesting habit of being everywhere I am, Ryder."

Sara couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face when she recognized the familiar voice. She turned to greet him and watched his lips spread into a grin. She offered her hand to him and he hesitated. She could see it in his eyes how much he wanted more. But he took her hand gently and shook. Not the time or place for reunions.

"You're just the man I need to talk to next."

He chuckled lightly and stuck his hands in his pockets as he led them towards where the deceased had been just minutes ago. Only a few Initiative personnel remained on site now, there to finish documentation before heading back to port. They were out of earshot, and it gave them time to talk.

Reyes cleared his throat. "I'm curious about why Nexus didn't contact me first about any of these…happenings."

"Honestly, Tann considers the Collective on the list of suspects."

She heard him click his tongue thoughtfully as they neared the edge of the water. "And here I thought the Director and I were becoming friends." He paused and looked across the water. She didn't know now what the look in his eyes meant this time. "How have you been?"

Sara's heart started aching all too quickly. Memories of light dancing and stolen kisses in the dark came flooding into her brain. Did he have any idea what he did to her just by standing so close? She ended things with him when they had barely gotten started. A Pathfinder couldn't be with the Charlatan. It was bad for PR; bad for the Initiative. So she steeled herself and muttered a small, "fine," before crossing her arms symbolically. She could feel him deflate next to her. The rejection hurt them both, she knew.

_Pathfinder, I've discovered a similarity. All five victims were last registered, at different times, at a specific location. Uploading coordinates to the Nomad. No other data found regarding the nav_ point.

She turned to Reyes. "SAM found matching coordinates for all five victims' last known locations." He quirked an eyebrow at her in vague interest. "Want some company?"

Sara smiled and turned toward the Nomad.


End file.
